Not A King (From Old Account)
by greenhillsblueskies
Summary: After the curse is lifted from Camelot, Sir Lancelot discovers that some things are found in translation from one kind of story to another when he is tasked with finding his strange new king. (Sonadow, Sonic/Lancelot, however you would call it. Formerly from my now deleted account.)


**((AN: This is called an "old" story because it is one that I used to have on my old account, which I will not name here for fear of search engine wrath. I thought I had deleted it for good, but I recently found an old flashdrive from about three years ago with a few of my old stories on it. Looking it over, I remembered that people really liked them and that the self induced fit of destruction where I wiped my old account was, you know, a bad idea. Because of that, I'm going to put up both this one and a second one on my current accounts, but be aware that I wrote these a long time ago and I have no plans to update them. Thank you for understanding.))**

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The King had been missing for several hours now, and the other knights were starting to worry. I doubted he'd been kidnapped - Sir Sonic had proven to be a very capable fighter even in his short time here- but it was almost nightfall, and though the knights had grown used to him traveling alone with no armor, this time he left even his sword behind. Gawain was worried he would be attacked by enemy kingdoms. Percival thought of the citizens who still held anger at him for killing the Black Knight who claimed to be King Arthur before him. Galahad thought of the rebels in the villages who wanted away with a monarchy altogether. And Lamorak thought of those with no motive but the gold they would surely make with the king as hostage.

For any other king those would be valid concerns, and yet I held no worry. Ever since he came to this land - and onto the throne - he had always done things differently than those that ruled before him. He was kinder, and though he acted as though he had never heard of the knight's code, he had a sense of honor much stronger than any I had met before. He fought with no concern for himself, but only for the greater good, even helping his enemies when he felt they needed aid. It was a mercy very few had in their hearts, and it lifted the spirits of his kingdom.

As for how he treated me personally, well, he was much kinder and certainly more affectionate. Not just compared to other kings, but compared to anyone else before. He would draw close to me, touch me gently, and at times, I caught him staring at me with rosy cheeks. I did not press the matter; it was not my place. I was to serve the king obediently, and nothing more.

His eccentricities were not altogether surprising. After all, if he and Merlina were to be believed, he wasn't from this world, and as such he did not know the usual ways of things. Often when sparring (as I liked to do) or racing (as he liked to do), he'd tell me stories of his home world, of metal structures that moved on their own and communicated across the world instantaneously with the power of lightning, of villains shaped like Eggs and monsters made of water. His favorite topic, however, was not his adventures but the ones he considered his friends, whom he missed dearly. "It's weird sometimes," he told me once, "because a lot of you look just like them. Like the blacksmith? He looks just like my little brother, Tails."

"Your brother was a fox, my king? Were your parents of two kinds?"

He shrugged. "I wouldn't know. Never met them."

"I see. Then how do you know he is, in fact, your brother?"

"Well, he's not literally. I took him in when I saw how he was treated in his homeland. They were awful, throwing rocks and stuff. And he didn't have any parents, so I tried finding a new home for him. I guess that home was with me."

This had confused me at the time. "But taking the child to a foreign nation - wouldn't he be pushed aside? What of his ties to his own king?"

He had raised an eye ridge at me. "Where I come from, there aren't any rulers like that. And if someone tries to become one, well, I take them down."

And he would say no more of it, and we would return to our practice.

On this night, I searched for him. I knew all the special places he liked to travel. They'd be far off corners of the realm, where normal people could not reach, but undoubtedly filled with beauty. The place he chose that night was a strange end of the Deep Woods, one that had yet to recover from the curse of Dark Hallow. The townspeople thought it cursed still; the flowers shone unnaturally under the light of the moon and though the plants have grown through it, if one looked carefully, they would see a light dusting of Merlina's magical snow. King Sonic sat alone in an open meadow, looking at his hand. The gauntlet placed onto him upon entry to this kingdom by the sword Caliburn reflected the moon's pale light. His face, clearly lit from the reflection of the flowers, was downcast.

Breathing deeply, I approached him. "I find you at last, my king," I spoke, shaking him from his stupor. "Your subjects await you back at court."

He looked up at me with wide, innocent eyes. "Sha- Lancelot," he said, visibly shaken.

"You were not expecting me, sire. I apologize for the intrusion."

He looked back at his gauntlet. "No, Lancelot, it's fine. Why don't you hang out for a sec?"

"Hang out, sire? I am afraid I'm unfamiliar with that term."

"It means to sit down with me." He laughed. "I keep forgetting some things just don't transfer over."

Bending my knees, my armor clinked at the joints until I was in a kneeling position. "Such as names?"

King Sonic looked surprised by my statement, but I simply shrugged. "You started to call me his name again, sire."

His cheeks tinted pink, barely visible in the low light. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"There is no reason to be ashamed, my king. I know I remind you of someone from your... 'home world,' but for reasons unknown you do not speak of him." Though not entirely unknown, I thought, remembering the subtle affections he had shown me, only to suddenly jerk away, as if waking from a daydream. A look of subtle betrayal would flash in his eyes, as if to say no, it's not him, stop being foolish. Thereafter he would return to his cheery, eccentric self, though not entirely hiding a deep sadness within him.

Still, I would not speak of such things, as it was not my place.

The king looked back at his gauntlet for a moment. It was as skillfully made as such pieces can be, with steel lining each individual finger and joints for movement along the fingers. The gold band by his wrist had minimal carvings, but they served to accentuate a fine red jewel mounted inside. It was probably worth a small fortune on the merits of the gem alone, yet dents along the steel and the obvious lack of maintenance showed that he did not care for such things. Even after a month's time, it still looked foreign on his hand, a brutal clash with the simple white glove on the other, which suited him more.

It clinked and ground as he flexed his fingers. "I'm supposed to keep this thing on until I leave. Caliburn said something about how it's a symbol of divine right, whatever that means." King Sonic looked up at me. "Actually, Lancelot, what does divine right mean? And why are you just kneeling? You can sit down, you know."

I sighed lightly. Occasionally I forget that he was not raised here. He did not know even the simplest of things. "Divine right means you were chosen by God to rule over a people. That is why I just kneel. I must protect you, the bearer of the divine right, with my life, and should anyone attack you I am ready as is."

The king's face suddenly twisted, as if he had tasted something foul. "I'd been alone for three hours before you came, Lance, and I can protect myself. And I wasn't chosen to rule over anything."

A wind passed through the wood, sending some flakes of frost into the air. He flinched slightly before running the fingers of his gloved hand through his quills, little dots of white floating gently to the ground. "You really aren't going to sit down, are you?"

"No, I will not."

"Not even if I ask nicely?"

"Unless it is a direct command from my king, no."

"I am not a king."

"Caliburn has pronounced it otherwise."

"Well than Caliburn is wrong! I don't want to rule anybody. I don't even like the idea of ruling over people." He was fully facing me now, staring at my head, covered by armor specially made for me, and his anger quickly vanished, replaced by curiousity. "So, if I understood you, as long as I say 'I command' before something, even if there's no consequence for not following it, you'd do it?"

"Yes, my king."

"Alright. First of all, 'I command' you to not call me that anymore. It's just Sonic, not King Sonic, sire, or even Sir Sonic."

I nodded, the metal of my helmet clacking against the breastplate. "Yes, si- Sonic."

"Second, 'I command' you to sit down. All the way. Relax."

Huh. Relax. That, as a concept, was foreign to me. My entire life has been full of tumultuous events; being abandoned as a child, taken in by the lady of the lake, and enlisted as a knight of the round table has given me nary a moment's pause. I was always training for a new enemy, or aiding with harvests in the fields, or defending the borders. I was already ready for the oncoming threat. But if he insisted...

"Yes, my king," I muttered, more quietly this time. I lowered myself to the ground, all the way this time, and Sir Sonic came closer, putting his hand on my quills.

"And take off that helmet."

I flinched. "I beg your pardon, my king?"

"Take off your helmet. I want to see your face."

"I will if you so desire, but are you sure-"

"Yes, Shadow. Just do it," he snapped, unlike himself. I leaned backwards, as if by reflex, and the hand that had been in my quills went to his mouth. "I'm sorry, Lance, I didn't mean-"

"If you beg my pardon... Sonic..." I began, still not used to calling him by titles, "but I would prefer you call me Lancelot."

"Yeah...sure..." He moved his hand down and fiddled with his gauntlet again.

"This Shadow person, the one who looks like me, means a great deal to you, does he not?"

A small smile came on his face, though the light had yet to return to his eyes. "You could say that." He picked one of the flowers and held it in his gloved hand. The petals looked fragile under the frost, like they would shatter at any moment. It was one of the remainders of the curse, the unnatural cold warping it into a form it was never meant to take. "Most everybody at home thinks of me as some sort of hero, and if we're talking about this place, some sort of ruler. Only a few know me better than that, and he's one of them."

I moved my sword aside. I had come to realize that, on the path we were going, a show of vulnerability would do me well. "From the stories you've told me before, the blacksmith and Gawain were the same. What is it about this Shadow person that makes him different from them?"

His face flushed a deep scarlet. "I... uh, well... I'm not sure what you would think... or anyone... it's not exactly common, what I think of Shadow, and it's not like anything would happen with us anyway... I mean, he's ...you know... and I'm fairly certain he's not... well, um..." He was very visibly flustered, and I finally placed his face. It was the face of a knight, holding the token of his beloved before he entered a duel. It was the face of a maiden seeing her husband return from war unharmed. It was the face of a bard serenading some pretty thing in the road, praying he can catch a second glance. I had heard of this love being between two men before, but it was certainly uncommon, especially in the royal line. Still, he was my king...

"Ah," I said, grasping the sides of my helmet tightly, "in that case, I shall follow your command. You wish to behold his face again, true?"

Before he could reply, I slid the helmet off my face, and the cold air hit my unguarded face. His eyes widened, and he touched my face with the guarded hand, the other still loosely holding the frozen flower he plucked from the ground. "It's amazing," he said, almost slipping into childlike awe. "Your face. It's exactly the same." He looked deep into my eyes, his own emerald shining in the moon's light. A slight heat went to my cheeks. Did he intend to come so close? "Everything. Like, most everyone else seems different, more serious. But not you. You're like him in every way!"

"I am pleased you are happy, Sonic."

A large smile came on his face. "Hey, you didn't even hesitate that time!" he declared, the light tone returning to his voice, and though I did not want to admit it at first, I knew his words were true. I was growing used to calling him just that name, not as 'King' or 'Sir' or 'sire' or 'lord'. How strange. If I were to do such a thing back at the court, the other knights would scold me mercilessly on my lack of respect. Somehow, though, it felt right to call him such a thing. It suited him. "No," I replied, "I do not believe I did."

He pulled up the flower and placed it in my quills. It dangled, lopsided. "Now, I have one last 'command' for you, and then it's over. No more thinking of me as a king, or anything else."

"Yes, Sonic?"

"Don't tell anyone what I am going to do next."

He put his hand around my head and, leaning in close, brushed his lips against my own. My eyes widened a moment, noting the gentleness with which he was grazing against me. As soon as it started, he drew back again.

"And what was that?"

He laughed slightly, standing up. "Nothing. Just always wanted to know what it would feel like."

"And?"

"And," he said, bracing himself to run, "it felt good. Thank you, Lancelot. I'm sorry if you felt uncomfortable."

"It was not a problem at all."

In a gust of wind which was his namesake, he was gone. I remained there by myself awhile, in the impossible field of flowers.

Not long later, Sonic had returned home without saying goodbye. The flower sat on my nightstand. No king ruled over Camelot. I was alone.


End file.
